


A Love Like Religion

by whintersoldiers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Ares!Bucky, Athena!Natasha, Cunnilingus, F/M, Female Reader, Greek Mythology AU, Hate to Love, Mortal!Reader, Porn With Plot, Reader Insert, Reader-Interactive, Smut, hate to love if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 01:54:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9526652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whintersoldiers/pseuds/whintersoldiers
Summary: Across the clearing and inside the marketplace, James balked. For a moment, he had thought that the battle he had just won had perhaps affected him a bit more than he had initially believed, because there was no chance the alluring woman he had been watching had the audacity to call him and his fellow Olympians… foul.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Halsey's "Coming Down," which you should 100% listen to when you see the bolded 'X.'

Even in their human form, the Gods held a spectacular disposition that compelled each mere mortal to turn to them and fall to their knees in wonder.

Demeter walked gently, herbs and grains sprouting at her feet as she treaded along the soil. The skies cleared around her, and every tree swayed and bowed in worship at their maker. You tried your hardest to memorize each curve of her face, the rosiness of her visage, each small human-like imperfection. You had just enough yarn at home to create another tapestry of the scene before you.

“Kyra,” You began with a small sigh, craning your neck outwards. “By gods, quit hindering my gaze of the woman that keeps our bellies full.” Kyra rolled her eyes but complied anyway, scampering off of the stairs, and hitting you with her grimy rag in retribution.

“My sincerest apologies, Y/N, but I was working,” She replied sarcastically. “Perhaps you would too if you would stopped leering at our goddess of harvest as if she does not visit Athens with every rise of the new moon.”

“You know I am entranced by Wanda’s aura,” You replied inanely, trying to observe each wisp of clove-colored hair dancing in the soft breeze. Kyra gasped in scandalous surprise, flicking you with the end of her cleaning rag. You winced.

“You know you must address the Olympians with proper formality!” She hissed at you, looking around to ensure no one had overheard you call the goddess by her name rather than her title. “Demeter is kind, but surely she would not allow you to speak to her in such a manner.”

“I will address them as such when they have earned the privilege.” You bit back quickly, finally acceding to Kyra’s wishes, and beginning to scrub at the magnificently large statue of Zeus towering over you. “Not this again,” Your best friend berated. “The gods have been more than gracious towards us. It is time you put an end to the hate in your heart, and thank them for all they have done.”

“What _have_ they done, Kyra?” You demanded, ripping your hand away from the gleaming marble as if it had been scathed. “Indulge me.”

“They have been kind enough to bless us with working limbs, healthy organs,” She defended vehemently. “I’m surprised they haven’t ended you for such blasphemy, if I am truly honest.”

“Perhaps because they are too preoccupied with their own selfish selves,” You hissed, frowning at her to indicate that the conversation was, indeed, over. “They have left us to rot, slaving away at their cost, sacrificing– wasting– our already scarce food, for them. I will continue to spew this… this ‘blasphemy,’ for as long as I wish.” You began to scrub aggressively at Zeus’ toga, staring bitterly at the sculpture as if the sheer force of your gaze will cause it to fall over and shatter to a million pieces.

“Who is that?” Kyra asked suddenly, causing you to drop your speech, and turn to the direction she was facing. Her disbelief is fitting, because the person walking through the marketplace was indeed someone you had never seen before.

You knew it was a God without so much as a second thought. Even if they were in their human form, it was evident in the way the crowds cleared in their path and the regality they exuded that they were no mortal. It took you a minute to decipher who it could possibly be.

The God of bloodshed.

He wore battle armor, complete with the shape of his patron animal- the serpent- etched menacingly onto his shield. Droplets of fresh blood dripped from his jaw, each pearlescent bead gleaming like the arils of a pomegranate from Hades himself. His smirk made it clear the blood did not belong to him. Thick slabs of copper muscle boasted from beneath the plates of celestial bronze around his shoulders. He was handsome, and darkly so at that, with cold, almost iridescent eyes- the blues of which you could discern from your position, hundreds of meters away. The sweltering sun matted his hair against his forehead- dark and sticky with sweat. But, perhaps the most captivating thing calling your attention was his left arm, rumored to be comprised of tempered steel and of the most wicked Stygian Iron, cooled in the River Styx itself.

He was beautiful in the way chaos was beautiful; spontaneous, uncontrollable, _inevitable._

You had a feeling if anyone could appreciate chaos, it would be James.

He stopped at one of the fruit stands, materializing a drachma and providing it to the seller before plucking a plum from the stall and sinking his teeth into it. The mulberry-colored nectar spilled from the bite, dripping down his cut jaw and gathering at the hollow of his collarbone, accompanied by the blood of his enemies.

You stared, and stared, and _stared._

“ευχαριστώ,” The merchant said meekly. _Thank you._ The God nodded, and continued his trek, smiling nebulously and eating his plum as if he were just another customer.

“He’s… beautiful.” Kyra murmured, entranced by his presence, unaware of the fact that you already had the vision of him devouring nature’s edible amethyst imprinted on the forefront of your mind for you to recreate on papyrus. You just hoped you had the right shade of ruby in your collection to match the blood at the tendons of his neck. “You have yet to create him in one of your masterpieces, right?”

“You are correct,” You confirmed, unable to rupture the line of gaze connecting you to him. “I can not fathom why. He is a vision. I can understand why you would worship the Gods to the extent that you do now.” Kyra giggled, and bumped your hip with hers. You smiled fondly at your friend, before turning to Ares yet again.

You thought you saw him lift his head to face you- with a smirk, no less- as you spoke, but that could not have been the truth. You and Kyra were mere ants in the view of his oceanic eyes.

"He truly is a vision,” Kyra parroted, twirling back to scrub at another portion of the statue. She called for you to do the same, to return to your work, but you simply could not find it within yourself to do so. Your eyes stayed fixated on him, and that is when your friend began to laugh. You turned to her with a questioning glance.

“It is nothing,” She lied, keeping her lips pressed together in amusement. “I just find it quite humorous that you preach endlessly about how much you hate the Gods, only to drop to your knees at your first glance of them.” There was a portion of candor to her words, and it irritated you, but you still found it necessary to defend yourself.

“Just because I am not fond of something does not mean I cannot appreciate the beauty of it’s nature,” You retorted defensively, before whipping back around to return to your job. “The Gods are still foul beings that I have no care for. Do not be mistaken.”

Across the clearing and inside the marketplace, James balked. For a moment, he had thought that the battle he had just won had perhaps affected him a bit more than he had initially believed, because there was no chance the woman he had been watching had the audacity to call his fellow Olympians… foul.

He began to storm towards the foolish woman, to show you the true extent of the wrath of Ares, when he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He growled as he turned around, ready to smite whoever had disrupted him, eyes alight with a vehement fire until he noticed who it was.

“I see you are still charging into battle with no regard for casualties, brother.” His sister Athena greeted, the afternoon light igniting her russet strands to crimson fire. She smiled. He grunted.

“Why have you hindered me, Natalia?” He rumbled.

“I will not have you spill blood in my city without reason, and certainly not from my favorite mortal.” She disclosed, making James gape in surprise.

“Are your ears working properly? Have you no care for what has flown past her lips?” He asked, annoyed at the eye-roll it earned from her. “I do not need you create another Areopagus here in Athens.” She argued, not stopping even when James opened his mouth to defend himself. “I am aware, I am aware. Your actions in killing were justified on that hill, but in this case, they are not.”

“She is intelligent, a trait you know I admire,” Natalia continued. “She challenges the mindset that every person in… forget Athens, all of _Greece_ possesses. As much as I enjoy being worshipped, a girl who can think for herself instead of complying mindlessly to something she does not believe in, is something I enjoy even more.” James stared.

“But… she is—”

“Fulfilling all her duties, no? She provides her burnt offerings at her meals, does her jobs, and I believe she will even bow respectfully should we approach. I do not see what she is doing wrong. She happens to make tapestries too- among other arts- and you know how much I love a good tapestry.”

“So, you will allow her to preach this hatred of us across Greece?”

“She is doing no such thing.” Natalia opposed. “Have faith, James. One day, you too, will see the wonder that is Y/N Y/L/N.”

* * *

“This is ridiculous,” James groaned to himself, setting the oil paints at the stairs leading to your house, a few weeks later. “I am a God. I have better things to do than leave gifts for a mortal. One who despises me, at that. I’ve done worse to those who have _loved_ me.” He has no idea why he agreed to do these ridiculous tasks set by Natalia, but she had insisted that she would show him the virtues of ‘something other than war.’

He stood, head brushing against the door as he did so, and causing it to sway open. His eyes widened in surprise, and he couldn’t help the curiosity that bubbled inside of him as he entered.

After his initial anger had dissipated, (and as much he hated it) he realized Natalia was right. You were different and for some reason that he still can’t fathom… he was intrigued. Since the last time he had seen you, James had joined Natalia to observe you in your day-to-day life. He had liked the duality you possessed; your soft, almost teasing charisma around your loved ones, against the fierce mentality you prioritized for your beliefs.

His eyes flitted over each small novelty, article of clothing, and the many colorful tapestries hung around the shack. The largest was of Daedalus, adjusting the spectacular wings he had built onto Icarus’ back. The sun flamed in through the window you had added, showing the reason for Icraus’ ultimate demise. Each thread was woven effortlessly into another, the colors swirling and churning hypnotically. There seemed to be many of Athena and her conquests, but what he noticed with a frown was… none were of him.

That is, until he turned to another corner of your home.

It was not a tapestry, but rather a painting. It was of the day he had first laid eyes on you, the scene of him inhaling the fruit with his eyes shut in ecstasy, forever frozen into papyrus. The setting sun created a crown of light around his head, the colors blended to make him look a lot more angelic than he truly knew himself to be. The shade of his arms and face were just right, skin gleaming like the bronze of his armor, the marred scars and bruises making him appear not weak, but rather… utterly victorious.

He stared, and stared, and _stared._

He heard footsteps, not realizing how long it had been. You were home. He quickly looked around, and escaped through an opening in the back, just as you stepped inside. He gave one final glance to the small hut behind him, and made his way to Mount Olympus, where Athena awaited.

* * *

You hated the stupid Greek Gods.

What right did they have to trapeze onto Earth and play with the emotions of any mere mortal, only to bring a child into the world that would be cursed with the fate of knowing only one parent?

If they were truly Gods, why didn’t they help you? Help your friends, your family, who spent the day away at the Gods’ grandiose statues and monuments displaying the divine power that they never used to aid in the lives of their followers.

You stared down at the luxurious colored oils that had been left at your doorstep, encased in an intricate white wrapping with iridescent golden details. You would be foolish to think such a gift would come from even a kind stranger, much less a God.

Besides, if it even was from a God, they would be nothing short of clueless to believe they could win over your affections with such simple trinkets. You enjoyed the euphoria of creating art, but not at the cost of sacrificing your own beliefs.

You stepped outside, looking from side to side as if you could find the offender that had left the item for you. Finally, you looked up to the sky, and threw your hands up in frustration and despair.

“It is going to take a lot more than that!” You roared at the clouds, feeling slightly ridiculous, but the action feeling strangely exhilarating nonetheless. “I cannot be bought!”

Ares clenched his jaw as he sat beside Athena on Mount Olympus and watched the mortal scoff at the gift he had left for her.

“Tell me, what good is has it done, dear sister?” James snarled at Natalia. “To appeal to the wishes of a mortal who possess no care, no respect, for her Gods.”

“You have always been a little too ill-tempered, Bucky.” Natalia replied, smirking when James side-eyes her at the use of his nickname. Natalia was one of few which he allowed to wield such a name for him. “I am Athena, the goddess of wisdom, am I not? Have patience. She will come to see our true nature soon.”

“Patience and war have never been allies.”

“Ah, but patience and love? They have been betrothed since the beginning of time.” Natalia smiled knowingly, watching James whip his head towards her.

“What is it you are trying to say?”

“Nothing at all,” She dismissed airily. “Go on now.” James nodded grimly.

* * *

“My lord.”

Those were the first words out of your mouth at your first glimpse of the God, standing tall and proud before you with an expression you could not decipher for the life of you. You curtsied, and kept your gaze low, so you did not offend him in any manner.

“You may stand,” Ares allowed, watching you rise back to your full height. You watched as he walked around the room, fingers brushing over the colored yarn of your tapestries, thumbing at each crease and edge. You gulped nervously, not really sure why the God of war would want to visit you in your home. He walked leisurely, with a slow kind of swagger that made you feel vaguely like he was challenging you. He came to a rest at the painting you had made of him, and swiped roughly along the still-wet color at the edge, bringing together two shades that you had left unblended. You realized with a start that you liked the new revision much better.

“I saw you that day, you know,” He offered casually. You were unable to stop your jaw from hanging down at the admission. “When you said the Gods were… foul, was it?” Your eyes widened to match your hanging mouth.

 _He knows. This is it._ You thought. _This is how I die._

It was not as if Ares was known to be particularly patient or level-headed. You found it wondrous he had not blown you to smithereens yet.

“I-”

“I am not upset,” He supplied calmly. Out of everything he had said so far, this surprised you most of all. “I wish to understand why.” You were taken aback by his words, unbelieving of his willingness to listen to you.

“You want to know why?” You queried, repeating his words to make sure you had heard right.

“Yes.” He spoke with a grace and tranquility that, for some reason, made you… angry beyond reason. His stare punctured each level-headed thought that bubbled up inside you, and his wide-legged stance made you feel as if you were being ridiculed. Ridiculed and challenged.

“You ask _why?_ ” You demanded again incredulously. “You cannot possibly be asking this question. You and your family sit atop thrones on a Mount Olympus- untouchable- while your subjects suffer. For you. How long before they all fall dead groveling at your cost? All while you _Gods,_ ” you spat the word with venom, as if it had personally destroyed every source of your happiness. “Drink ambrosia and pretend as if everything is all good and well.”

“Is that what you believe?” He asked in that same, easy tone. It only infuriated you further.

“It is what I know!” You cried. “You all have no care for those that worship you, only using them to chase your own selfish pleasures, and dropping them at moment’s notice when you have no other use for them. Spending millennia ignoring your half-blooded children. Millenia ignoring those that need you, like my brother, laying down his life for a war he did not start as we speak.” You knew that you were only digging your grave deeper, but it’s not as if he was going to show you mercy anyway. If you were going to die, so be it. You would do it with your head held high.

You were absolutely enraged, eyes tumultuous and inflamed. He had overseen every battle to occur since the beginning of time, but never had he witnessed a fire- one that would put even Prometheus to shame- in a soldier like the one that had ignited inside you. Your jaw locked wrathfully and your teeth gritted like you were choking back words, and somewhere from the back of James’ mind, he thought: _beautiful._

“I find it _vile_.” You added for good measure. James’ eyebrows cocked in question, and that was when you realized you had gone too far. Your mouth went dry, and the color drained from your face as you realized you had gone on one of your typical rants about the Gods- except this time, you had done it in front of one. You had no idea what had overcome you. You stepped back and looked down at yourself, trying to understand. You were passionate, yes, but not foolish enough to do something such as this. Talk down to someone, much less a God, while they stood in front of you. You looked up at him, ready to beg pardon for your behavior, when you spotted a small smirk on his face.

“I must apologize,” He drawled. “It is my aura. It… tends to draw out the worst in even the best people when I want it to. Prepares them for battle. Incites it.”

He continued, going on to explain how the Gods had their own matters to face alongside with the responsibility of caring for the humans of earth. He was surprisingly practical throughout the whole matter, which threw you slightly off-kilter. You had no idea why he was so willing to be patient. He elaborated further, bringing up the fact that the Gods liked to allow humans to build their own destinies by not involving themselves exceedingly.

“Whether you like it or not, struggle and pain make a person who they are. And, when they are coddled and spoiled by the abilities of the Gods, they become… inhumane. We’ve made that mistake in the past, with your ancestors but we are not going to do it again.”

“There’s a difference between overindulging one and helping them in times of distress.” You piped up. He remained silent for a beat before talking.

“I wanted to kill you,” He added casually, watching you eye him cautiously. “I was well on my way, before I was stopped by Natalia. She can be quite persuasive when she wants to be.” He muttered the last part to himself.

“Do you expect my gratitude?” You snarked. “Oh thank you, great Ares, for you have truly done me the greatest favor by sparing me.” You knew for a fact that you were pushing it with the sarcasm, but the God across from you did not seem miffed. Amused, would be more accurate.

“You have quite the mouth, don’t you?”

“I do not know. Maybe it’s your evil aura.” You taunted viciously, watching as his lips upturned into a full smile. You observed carefully, following the the lines in his mouth as they stretched to accommodate the action. You contemplated adding the crescendo of color from his cupid’s bow to lower lip to your painting, the details of which you had not noticed before.

“Are you always bitter when you realize you are wrong?” He asked, almost playfully.

“I am not wrong!” You spluttered indignantly. “Saying that you care is not equivalent to showing that you do.” He hummed contemplatively.

“Okay.” Your head jerked back in surprise.

“Okay?” _That’s it?_

“Okay,” He agreed. “I will take my leave.” You almost reached out to stop him, your eyebrows hiking up in surprise.

“W- wait!” You called. He stopped but did not turn to face you.

“This will not be the last you see of me, pretty girl.”

And then, he was gone, leaving you with your jaw unhinged and cheeks rouged.

* * *

You were at a loss.

It had been over a month since your visit from Ares, and all around you, the lives of your friends and family were improving exponentially. Crops would thrive, advanced technology would be built into creation to help with the rigorous work of the Greek, (“It is Hephaestus’ blessing!” Kyra would argue.) and crusades would be won.

Your brother had returned from war less than a day ago, and after embracing him fiercely and letting him know of all that he had missed, he had told you of the spectacle that had surprised him on the battlefield after months of fighting.

“You wouldn’t believe it!” He had said, clapping enthusiastically as he spoke. “Ares _himself_ came down, his chariot pulled by the four horses of war. He fought with us for the entirety of the last month, and I tell you, the others did not stand a chance!”

And even though it was all over, James was nowhere to be seen.

You would never let yourself think about why that bothered you so much.

Your brother left shortly after, letting you know that he had yet to see your parents. Although you were saddened by the matter, you understood. He had been gone for over a year; he had every right to see his parents after such a time. The journey there from your house would take some time, so you packed nourishments and water for his trip. He departed just as Apollo began to haul the sun across the sky.

You were working on another tapestry, this time of Ares’ four horses when a knock came at your door. You had pestered your sibling until he had divulged every detail of the magnificent animals- each breathing fire. You had just the right amount of yarn to weave their majestic manes, each stallion a different color. You huffed in annoyance, setting down your tools to go answer the person at your door. The universe just kept surprising you, because in front of you was the God of War himself, silver arm braced against the doorframe and a grimace on his handsome face. You gasped audibly, mapping the wounds that seemed to cover each pore on his body.

He grinned at your reaction as your eyebrows knitted together in worry, He looked absolutely gruesome, bruised skin blooming on various parts of his body: across his jaw, at his rawed knees, and underneath his collarbones. And the blood- it was everywhere. At his sword, hanging proudly at his waist and completely saturated with the crimson liquid. Along his stygian arm, cratered in some places from force and lastly: all over him. Lips split and swollen, calves slashed, and murky hair plastered against his neck. All bloodied.

“Do not look so surprised, pretty girl,” He greeted. although the sentence was confident, his voice wavered. It was raspy from overuse; tired. “I told you I would come back for you.” His words brought you out of your frozen state. You sobered quickly and ushered him inside before his knees could buckle, setting him down and demanding for him not to move, before quickly running back to your door to shut it. But first, you heard skittish footsteps. Or, clattering, rather.

You craned your neck outside, only to realize that he had brought _them_. The Horses of War. They were gorgeous, manes flying like the curls of a flame. Two purely white, another black as onyx, and the last of rusted fire. Your brother had not done them justice, you realized, as you watched them graze calmly on the grass outside of your house. They were utterly and completely hypnotizing. The quartet seemed rather subdued for their title, but you didn’t question it. If they were content, so were you. An irrational glee filled you at being able to see them with your own eyes, jumping with excitement as you realized that your tapestry would turn out much better now that you had gotten a glimpse for yourself. You returned to the awaiting God inside your house, trying to hide your delight.

“Aithôn, Konabos, Phobos, and Phlogeus,” He murmured. You halted in surprise, and raised an eyebrow.

“What? Are you listing your best qualities?” You queried, drawing out a low chuckle from him. He shook his head.

“Their names,” He explained, indicating to your unfinished work of his horses. “Red-fire, Tumult, Fear, and Flame.” “Fitting names,” You said, setting down the washcloth and bowl of water beside him. He peered up at you through his lashes as you studied him, staring into the soul that had been rumored my many to not exist. “Go to sleep. You need rest.”

“Can I trust you?” James asked almost teasingly. You leveled a withering look his way, and he laughed softly, the sound fluttering too gently to be coming from the God of War over your skin. You rolled your eyes just as his eyes slipped shut.

You wondered if Gods dreamed.

A few hours later, Ares awakened to a something simultaneously soft and rough, like a cat’s tongue, brushing at the cleft of his chin. The feeling soothed him inexplicably. He cracked his eyes open, surprised to find you kneeling between his spread legs, body extended so you could reach his face. Your eyes were focused intently on his jaw, tongue poking out of the side of your mouth in concentration at you cleaned tenderly with the rag.

All his wounds had healed in a matter of hours— not that you were surprised. He was immortal; surely, it came with a few upsides. However, the blood painting his body had been left messily drying on his skin, so you had taken it upon yourself to clean him up. You had also stripped away everything but the cloth along his upper thighs, keeping him decent. He was almost completely fresh again, awaking only when you touched his face.

“Aren’t you sweet?” He taunted happily, watching your attention shoot to him. Your hand jerked in surprise, almost dropping the cloth in your hand. You narrowed your eyes in irritation, making to move away, before he locked his ankles behind your thighs to keep you from escaping.

“With all due respect, my lord, you are a nuisance.” You huffed, crossing your arms. He allowed the ghost of smile to pass his face. “Now that you have taken a nice respite, it’s time to explain,” You demanded, before standing up and taking a stance so you loomed over him. He watched you with a smirk. It was a petty display of power on your part, but it grounded you. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted your verdict.” He replied, slowly sitting up.

“My verdict?”

“That’s right,” He agreed. “During our last encounter, you brought up a few… fair points. I wanted to make sure those concerns were addressed. So… what are your thoughts?”

“How did you do it? Address my concerns, that is,” You asked curiously, ignoring his question.

“Up on Mount Olympus, I brought up the possibility that perhaps we have gotten too negligent to the needs of your people. The Olympians, no matter how delusional you might think we are, agreed. Even Zeus.” The sky outside sparked to life, lightning clapping noisily in outrage. Your hands trembled from surprise, the feeling skyrocketing when James clasped your hands with his own in reassurance.

“Rest easy, father. No ill words are being spoken of you.” James called out into the air. Thunder boomed one last time, almost in warning, before the night sky cleared and began to boast the beautiful light of the moon again. He met your stare, eyes more piercing than ever. “You did not answer my question.”

“I…” You swallowed. “I do not see why my opinion is necessary here. The people of Greece are happier, more prosperous, better humans.”

“But what of you?” He pressed. You shook your head.

“Why do my singular thoughts matter?”

“Everyone matters.”

“It is more than that,” You challenged. “Why me?”

“Natalia is rather fond of you. She wishes for you to be happy.”

“I asked of you. Not of Athena. I will answer you when you answer me.” The air between your bodies was silent and warm for a minute too long. He remained stoic, expression careful, and you could tell he was thinking rather deeply.

“You matter because since the first day that you revealed your beliefs, your passion and allure lit a fire inside of me that no one had ever done before. No… thing. Not war, not victory, not death. Only you. And I need to know that I have affected you the way you have me.” Oh. Oh boy, did he ever… “Natalia likes to tell me love is like war: easy to begin, but very hard to stop.” He adds. “And, although I have grown accustomed to her being correct at all times, I was very surprised to find that she was indeed speaking the truth here as well.”

“James…” You began before coughing and poorly hiding your slip. Kyra had been right. Your bad habit was coming back to haunt you. “I mean, my lord. Ares.” He smiled faintly.

“You may call me James,”

“Can I call you Bucky?” You asked with a sheepish grin. He grunted but did not reply, turning his attention back to your wandering hands, tracing the protrusion of his collarbone. Your smile widened at his silence. “That was not a ‘no,’”

“That was not a yes either.” He replied quickly, a raised eyebrow contrasting against the humorless expression on his face. He shook his head, almost as if to derail a new thought. “I have answered your question. Will you answer mine?”

This time it was you who took your time before replying.

“I am not sure what you are anticipating,” You answered, wringing your hands together. Your gaze dropped to the floor. “My brother has returned, safe and alive. I am full and happy everyday. So are my friends. My family. I was not aware there is more I could ask for.” He looked extremely pleased by the answer.

“You have… against all odds, changed my life.” You added quietly, pushing back your cuticles in apprehension. “And– And, I… I am…”

Luckily, he understood.

**X**

He took your hands, and flattened him to his chest, tugging gently on your arms so you sat straddling his thick thighs. He was warm, so warm, underneath you that you shivered. His palms smoothed up over your arms and biceps, over your shoulders, and down to your waist. The iron of his left arm curled around your hip, and you had to bite back a small whimper at the burn of the cold. He pushed you closer until your breasts were flattened against his chest. Until he could feel the aberrant hammering of your heart against his.

_I found God._

_I found him in a lover._

_When his hair falls in his face,_

_And, his hands so cold they shake._

“Will you let me have you?” He asked breathily, mouth ghosting over your face, lips skimming lips. “Let it be known that you do not… owe me anything. Not your body, not your affections. But, I just–” You did not give him a chance to finish the sentiment, pushing forward and letting your mouth devour his.

_I found the devil… I found him in a lover._

_And, his lips like tangerine,_

_In his color coded speak._

He kissed like a warrior, all intensity and ardor. His teeth clashed almost angrily against your own, and you had to clamp your knees against his thighs to keep from falling over at the feeling. Lips of sin, moving with rapture not only on your mouth, but underneath your ears, and along your neck. He tasted like the earth, but there was no mistaking the metallic tang of blood that also filled your senses. You wrapped your arms around his neck, eager to taste more of everything and anything he had to give.

His torso was still wet underneath your fingertips as you kissed him, the remaining water from your washcloth refusing to leave his body. You could not blame it, for you would not want to leave either.

_I’ve got a lover, a love like religion._

_I’m such a fool for sacrifice._

He pulled at your dress impatiently, sliding the linen quickly over your head and baring you to him. The air had nothing to do with the way your nipples hardened, a small mewl leaving your lips as James brought his head to suckle at the bud, hard enough to bruise. Hard enough to mark.

His mouth was unforgiving, teeth pulling at the skin of your breasts. It was so much and so little, and you found yourself grinding down onto his length for relief, whining when his arms clamped together around your hips to still your movements.

_I’ve got a lover, and I’m unforgiven._

_I’m such a fool to pay this price…_

_It’s coming down._

You cried out as his lips pulled off of your body with a wet, filthy noise, strong arms lifting you and depositing you so you laid in his place. Quickly, he assumed the position you had been in while he slept, on his knees in front of you. Each muscle on his body rippled fluidly as he moved, and what a sight it was. He wrestled your legs open, shoving his hand to palm at your cunt. A cracked cry escaped from you in surprise, and it hurt because you were not entirely wet yet, but it was meant to.

Ares would never be Ares if he let you away with your sharp tongue.

“Do you still think me vile?” He questioned cockily, knowing the answer.

“As I said before,” You declared, unwilling to take his punishment without putting up a fight. “You are a nuisance.” A corner of his mouth lifted slightly, and he rubbed harder, and you briefly wondered why you could never keep your big mouth shut. You could feel his palms slicking, beginning to slide along your pussy, and you could have cried at the euphoria. Your legs fell open further, and you moaned his name without a second thought. He kissed the crease where your thigh met your cunt.

“I want…” He whispered into your legs, kitten-pink tongue flashing out as he ran it along your clit. “For you to pray to me. _For_ me.” His shoulders flexed as he lifted your legs to rest on either side of his head. And without another word, his tongue was muscled inside you, slurping messily at your juices.

_I found a martyr,_

_He told me that I’d never._

_With his educated eyes,_

_And his head between my thighs._

His thumb twirled tight circles around your swollen clit, while his tongue lapped at all that you had to offer. His tongue curled, the tip grazing just along the spot that made you clamp his head with the flesh of your thighs in pleasure. He made sure to avoid it next time. You would not get release this quickly, not on his watch.

And, pray you did.

After all, the only worshipping happening was of you.

You were shaking with it, an incoherent mess as his tongue and fingers traded, lips and tongue closing around your nub and three fingers sliding unrelentingly into your core. Every move was a damned battle tactic, tearing you apart at the seams. Your clit pulsed against his mouth, and he smiled just as he bit down. You screamed, fingers burying into the darkness of his hair. But, before you could come, he pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His left hand came to massage at your stomach soothingly, while you scowled at him. He laughed, leaning over your body to place a kiss onto your lips.

He was larger than life, body completely engulfing you as he laid on top of you. You hummed, divesting him of the remainder of his clothing, and hands instantly gravitating towards his dick. His cock was firm and heavy in your hand, throbbing and hot as you gave experimental strokes, tightening your grip near the head. He breathed heavily into your ear as you repeated the movement, letting his tip dance along your lips. You rolled your hips up to meet his slit, glistening with your slick.

He let you continue your ministrations, before sliding his hands between your thighs, and spreading them impossibly wider so your thighs laid flat. You were drenched, that much you could tell, because the simple movement of spreading your legs caused his hands to be soaked in the process. Your thighs, your pussy, all beckoned him.

With one thick thrust, he was inside you. You cried out, nails scrambling for purchase at his back. A guttural groan flowed from the back of his throat, as he began to fuck into you with jolts of his hips that left you wailing his name. Your name rumbled from deep inside his chest as he brought the cold thumb of his left hand to press at your aching clit.

_Oh my._

Stygian Iron was to be used for the deadliest of weapons, and it seemed that this case would not be any different, because you were going to die. You were going to die buried under James with his length dragging deliciously against your walls and his thumb heavy on your clit. The hearth crackled and popped behind your bodies as his hips set a deep, undulating pace with every roll. It felt too good to be wrapped around him like this, his face hidden underneath the crook of your jaw, kissing sloppily at the supple skin.

“Please,” You whispered, not quite sure what you were asking for, digging your nails deeper into his shoulders. He growled, hipping speeding up, and causing you to cry out in delight as the war between your bodies waged chaotically.

Spontaneous, uncontrollable, _inevitable._

You could do nothing but cry brokenly as you came, jolts moving up your spine and your pussy pulsating erratically as the feeling washed over you. He didn’t slow his movements, even going so far as to speed them up, delaying the departure of the ecstasy for as long as possible.

He had yet to come when you were able to look back up at him, watching his jaw tense in concentration. What a sight it was, so have such a colossus above you, falling apart because of you. And when your name began to fall from his lips, you knew he was close. You gave one last, gratifying clench around his cock, watching his mouth fall open and eyebrows contort at the sensation, before half-heartedly pushing him away. Even in his slightly inebriated state, he complied immediately.

You quickly slid out from underneath him, and returned to your initial position, giving him a chance to turn and face you. You gripped his thighs tightly, entranced with the way his cock twitched at the sight of you kneeling before him. You smirked coyly as you took him into your mouth, watching his confused expression dissipate only to be replaced by one of completely bliss.

You didn’t tease, not when he was this close, using your tongue to trace along the ticking vein on the underside of his cock. You let your mouth engulf most of his ample length, watching him groan and writhe above you. You tried not to smile, inhaling in a deep breath and ignoring the tears starting to form at your eyes. You sucked him deeper, until it was him who was praying for you.

He was so far down your throat that by the time he came, you barely tasted his seed in your throat. You swallowed without a second thought and gave him one last, mean suck, making his hips jerk in surprise as he moaned defeatedly. This time you did grin as you stood up.

Slowly, you stretched, more to give him a nice display than to rejuvenate your muscles. His eyes never left you for a second, watching you with a heat behind his eyes that you thought had already been quelled. Wordlessly, you reached for your dress, ready to clean and cover up when an ice-cold hand wrapped around your wrist. You turned to him, surprised. He grinned wickedly.

“M’not done with you just yet,” He cooed, pulling you back onto his thighs, making you land with a surprised yelp. His cock jutted into your hipbone, impossibly _hard._ Your shock grew. “We have love to make.” His hands fisted in the hair at the base of your skull, scratching lightly as if to calm you. Your eyes softened, and his lips initiated a trail of wet caresses along your neck. You smiled softly, eyes turning dark when he roughly seized your breasts in his hands.

“And, what of war?” You asked curiously.

“We can wage that too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Honestly, I felt like I developed their relationship a little too fast, but I already had like a quarter of the smut written, so I figured I might as well finish. My first published fic on this website, so let me know your thoughts! Thanks! Shoot me a comment if you want my tumblr.


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